With Downturn, Calls to Florida Help Line Grow

Thursday

Marie Cothias, a state operator who helps Floridians with public assistance, has been hearing from more callers with new fears.

MIAMI — The syncopated rhythm of recession plays on repeat in a downtown Miami office building, on high-tech headsets in a room with only one window, among the voices of those seeking help.

Marie Cothias, 27, has been a state operator here since April 2007, helping Floridians with public assistance. Her calming voice and patience have made her an office favorite and, like many of her colleagues, she said she started hearing from more callers — with new fears — sometime last year.

“A lot of people were losing their jobs,” Ms. Cothias said. “A lot of people were saying, ‘We don’t have any food for our children.’ ”

Now this call center and two others like it in Florida are overwhelmed, as are similar centers around the country. Every day, 250 operators in Florida receive up to 150,000 calls, roughly a 40 percent increase over last year.

George H. Sheldon, secretary of the Florida Department of Children and Families, which runs the centers, has said he needs 288 more operators to meet the surging demand for help, especially with food stamps.

And the volume of calls reflects only part of the need. The telephone help line here does not handle inquiries about unemployment benefits, which are managed by another agency (also overwhelmed), and because most Floridians now apply for public assistance online, the calls here are typically follow-up questions.

Ms. Cothias’s callers on a recent morning were mainly trying to make sure they would be getting their benefits. All 15 callers were women, and all agreed to let a reporter listen in as long as their names were not used. At least nine were young mothers. Three were 50 or older, and several were dealing with public assistance for the first time.

Their tones varied greatly.

Caller 13, who was in her 20s and from Stuart, sounded relieved when Ms. Cothias told her that there were no restrictions on what kind of food she could buy with her newly issued food stamps.

Caller 4, from St. Petersburg, sounded more frantic. With a raspy voice echoing through what sounded like an empty house, she said she had lost her job in the service industry and needed her food stamp application approved quickly.

“I’m freaking out,” she said. “I have no income, and I’m starving.”

Even after being assured by Ms. Cothias that her food stamp account should be open within days, the woman could not be calmed. “Is there any other help you can offer for someone who’s been looking really, really, really hard for a job?” she said. “I’m 50 years old, and all they want are young girls. Do I drop off the face of the earth? Do I die? What do I do?”

Ms. Cothias tried to quiet her with a referral to a job training center. Later, she said she felt most sympathetic for such callers, those who are middle-aged or older, with diminishing job prospects. Indeed, she seemed to type a little faster when she heard from Caller 3, who needed more help caring for her elderly mother in Naples.

“I’m going to have to start charging her rent because they cut my hours at work,” the woman said. Her mother receives $808 a month in Social Security, and Caller 3 planned to charge her $550 a month in rent and utilities. After Ms. Cothias punched in the mother’s new rent expenses, her food stamp benefit increased to $101 a month, from $14.

“It’s not a lot, but it helps,” Ms. Cothias said.

She was a bit more businesslike with the chronic poor who have grown accustomed to public aid. It took less than five minutes for Ms. Cothias to finish with Caller 12 from Orlando, who cavalierly sought to add her new baby to her welfare case.

And then there were the calls that seemed to confound Ms. Cothias’s guidelines of sympathy. Should the safety net catch someone like Caller 14, or let her go? The woman started upbeat. “Give me good news, girl,” she said. “Give me good news.”

She was 37, had at least two children with different fathers, and lost her job at a marketing firm last year. She had applied for Medicaid for her family, among other benefits, and seemed eligible and in need.

“My kids are getting sick and staying home from school,” she said.

But her application hit a snag when Ms. Cothias discovered that the woman had not been added to the rolls because she failed to list a $1,469 child-support payment and had not turned in a statement from her former employer verifying that she had been let go.

The caller offered a flurry of explanations that left unclear whether she had made an honest mistake or had tried to manipulate the system to maximize her benefits. Ultimately, it did not matter. She had applied more than 60 days ago; her case had expired, and she had to start over.

The news nearly crushed her. She quietly began to sob. “I’m trying so hard,” she said. “I’m trying so hard.”

A young boy could be heard in the background. “Honey,” she said, “Mommy is on the phone.”

And then the call was cut off, apparently by accident.

Ms. Cothias shrugged. It was noon. On a wall near her cubicle, a flat-screen monitor showed that 3,725 calls had been received since 9 a.m.; 389 had been “abandoned,” and 120 people were waiting for 126 operators to pick up.

The green light on Ms. Cothias’s phone lighted up — another call for help. She answered.

Never miss a story

Choose the plan that's right for you.
Digital access or digital and print delivery.